Page 14 of Mr. Wrong
When that doesn’t work, I tell myself I asked her to stay because I’m hoping my brother will see her leave in the morning and get pissed off at me for breaking one of his stupid rules.
When that doesn’t work, I admit the truth.
That I like her.
Really like her.
Everything about her.
I like her quirky little mouth and the fact that I make her nervous.
I like the fact that she’s nerdy enough to know who Lex Luthor is and thought nothing of wearing a soccer mom sweater and sneakers to one of the trendiest bars in LA.
I like the fact that she was scared shitless about riding on the back of my bike, but she did it anyway. That she wrapped her arms around my waist and told me she didn’t want me to take it easy on her.
I like her full, soft breasts and the fact that they’re God-given and aren’t the work of some Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. Her slightly rounded belly and the fact that she doesn’t have a thigh gap or bikini bridge or whatever the fuck women think men find attractive these days.
I like the way she fucked my mouth and screamed my name when she came. I like the way she was worried about overstaying her welcome and double checked the alarm she set on her phone to make sure she set it correctly and texted her friend to tell her she was staying over before crawling into bed beside me.
That’s the truth.
I like her.
And I want her to like me back.
“My full name is Alex. Alexander.” It’s dark and quiet. We’ve been laying here for a while, side-by-side, not really touching. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts because she seemed anxious about sleeping next to me naked. When I offered her the shirt she seemed relieved. She pulled it on and the hem of it almost reached her knees. Covered up the fact that she isn’t wearing any underwear.
I like that too.
“Most Alexanders get saddled withXanderfor a nickname.” She whispers it, like we’re trading secrets at a slumber party. “I like Lex—even if it makes you sound like a super villain.”
I laugh quietly, my hand searching for and finding hers on the bed between us. “I’m not a super villain,” I say, lacing my fingers between hers. “I’m just super privileged.”
“Are you going to show me your Bat Cave?” she says, and it makes me laugh even harder because she’s totally oblivious to the dirty joke she just made.
“Maybe later.” I tug her closer, tucking her into my side so she’ll rest her head in the crook of my shoulder. “You should probably go to sleep—you have work in the morning.”
“You don’t have work in the morning?” There’s no judgment in her tone but it bothers me anyway.
“I worked for my brother.” I don’t really want to talk about it, but I find myself saying it out loud anyway. “He fired me today.”
“Oh...” She’s whispering again, her mouth moving against my shoulder. “Is that what you two fought about?”
“Yeah.” I frown, my gaze aimed at the ceiling. “He fired me and hired someone else to take my place.” Thinking about it hurts my chest. Tightens my rib cage around my lungs. Makes it hard to breathe.
You need a life, Lex.
A real life.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I pull her arm across my chest, tucking her against me even tighter. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know…” she says softly, her voice barely above a murmur. “But I’m still…”
She drifts off to sleep before she can finish the thought.
Eleven
